


where my mind goes

by writingramblr



Category: Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comeplay, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Explicit Sexual Content, Fix-It of Sorts, Foot Massage, M/M, POV Third Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, all one persons POV, call me by your name fusion, consider this a love letter, i mean you already know, look if it makes you feel better credence is 18 and just doesn't know what to do with his life yet, possible abuse of a peach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 07:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13829298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: the summer before Percy turns twenty-five, he meets the son of one of his professors while abroad, in Italy, helping Newton Scamander iron out the rest of his research, along with a historical discovery that's likely to change everything.what he doesn't plan for is falling for the man's adopted son, Credence, who at first, seems cold, and unapproachable.as it turns out, he's far from what Percy imagines, and more than interested...





	where my mind goes

**Author's Note:**

> i got the SUPREME blessing of seeing 'call me by your name' in my local theater, which is only because it was nominated for best picture, and it just.... enhanced the feels. i had to have a gradence au. but i didnt really wanna REHASH all of the movie. so there's this. 
> 
>  
> 
> i hope Someone enjoys it, because i had a great time creating it.
> 
>  
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> ALSO if anyone has an issue with this fic, concrit, or whatever, come to me privately.  
> if you just wanna complain about it, keep it to yourself.  
> or write your own thing.  
> i'm doing this for free, for fun.  
> no need to rain on the parade.  
> cheers ~

“These are pretty good,” Percy says, almost conversationally, as he catches a slight furrowing of brows on the boy’s face. 

“I thought you didn't smoke…?” Credence starts, before trailing off. It’s not quite an accusation. 

Besides, he’s right. Percy has only just started back up out of nerves. 

A way to vent frustration, by falling back into a vice. 

The only thing they drink at the villa is wine or apricot juice, hardly something strong enough for him, unless he were to hog an entire bottle. “I don’t.” Another frown from Credence. 

Percy hides his smile by looking away, and asking about the monument. 

Of course, the boy knows everything about it. 

Percy gets the War wrong, and takes his correction gracefully. 

“Is there anything you don’t know?” Percy is just teasing the boy, trying to get a reaction, a rise. 

Credence doesn’t bite, not really. He goes silent for a long moment, in fact. So much that Percy thinks maybe he was too harsh. He inhales deeply on the cigarette, almost burned out. It’s now in danger of singing his fingertips while also choking his breath a little bit. Finally, Credence speaks again.

“I don’t know anything about important things, things that matter.” 

Percy catches the tone of defeat, of regret. Still, it’s an opening, a tiny window of hope. 

Something unclenches in his gut. “What things that matter?” He asks, his heart thumping almost painfully in his chest, as he paces around the monument. 

It’s more like a dance, really.  _ ‘To speak, or die.’  _ Percy recalls it in a blinding instant, the tale of the knight and the princess. Who is who in their situation? 

They grow closer together, the perfect circle of the fence leading them back to each other. 

He blinks, and sees the boy’s feet shuffling, scuffing the cobblestones. “You know what things.” 

“Do I.” It’s not a question. He stands still, and the boy approaches. Those endless dark eyes lift to meet his, and there’s a hint of a smile quirking plush lips. “At least, I think you do.” 

“We can’t… I can’t talk about this, if you’re saying what I think you are.” 

He looks to the space between them. 

Mere footsteps, inches now, or centimeters, as the boy might correct him. They are in Europe, after all.

“Why not?” It’s just not the right place. But is there really a right place? 

They stop along the ride back to the villa, and he follows, he’d follow this boy anywhere, he thinks. 

He does. The water is freezing, but nothing matters, not when he’s able to look and be looked at like that. Like this. 

Drying off in the sun, laying on the grass. 

Credence starts babbling about the moment, the time and place. 

He thinks, maybe he means  _ them _ . So he asks for clarification. Percy turns over, and sees Credence looking right at him, with an open, earnest and hungry expression. 

He leans on his elbow, and reaches over, gently letting his fingertip graze atop Credence’s bottom lip. 

The boy’s mouth opens and he licks against the pad of his finger.

Something makes him move, closer, looming on top of Credence, his chest just barely brushing into the boy’s, a bent knee nudging against the boy’s nearest thigh. He ducks down and slots his mouth over Credence’s, only to feel pushback, and then that same tongue teasing between his lips. 

He may be new to this, but he does know  _ how _ to be alluring in the space of no words. Percy’s breathing starts to speed up, and he feels warmth pooling in his gut. He stops. The kiss breaks. 

He turns away, falling onto his back on the grass once more. 

Credence lets out a sound like a whine and a whimper. Percy’s hands are clenching into fists at his sides. 

“Feel better?” He asks, hoping the tremor in his voice isn’t obvious.

Credence says no, and then  _ he’s _ on top of Percy, kissing him savagely, fierce and determined, so that he’s forced to put a hand to the boy’s chest, and firmly push him back. He’s not glaring, he’s just...chastising. 

“That’s enough. We’ve not done anything to be ashamed of. We’ve been good.”

“Why should we be ashamed of this? Of us?” Credence sounds pouty, and when he opens his eyes, he sees it. 

“I think you know.” That’s all he can manage. 

Credence doesn’t seem horribly deterred, reaching between his legs, then pulling one of Percy’s hands along too, and then he gets to  _ feel _ exactly what he’s done. “We should go.” 

“You can be good, and I’ll be bad.” Credence eventually says, when they’re back in the villa, going their separate ways to prepare for dinner. It’s a louder affair than normal. 

Friends of Credence’s parents are visiting, and they are  _ so loud _ , and talk so quickly, Percy simply chooses to look at his food, his drink, to Credence himself. The boy’s watching his mother’s face, and she looks amused, even as both of them stay silent. A moment later, Percy feels a bare foot brushing against his right one. He looks to Credence, because of course it’s him, who else could it be? 

Percy pushes down, and then drags his foot overtop the boy’s, still glancing his way. 

When he looks back to his plate, and uses his fork to move the final few bites around, he feels another nudge, this time, a big toe tickling under his arch. Percy tries to return the gesture, while focusing firmly on reaching for his water glass. Credence is served a small dish of ice cream, and he looks fairly normal, dipping the spoon in for a bite, until he lowers it, and there’s a smear of crimson on his upper lip. 

He reacts immediately by pressing his napkin to his nose, and hurriedly leaving the table. 

Percy waits a few moments, sees Credence’s mother nod infinitesimally to him, and then he sets his napkin down and leaves with a murmured  _ ‘Excuse me,’ _ going mostly unnoticed by the rest of the table. 

“Credence? Are you alright?” He goes deeper into the house, and stumbles upon the boy tucked away in a corner, just across from the hall closet on the first floor. “Hey. Sorry. I don’t know what happened.” 

Percy thinks he might. “Was it my fault?” 

Credence says no, there’s no way. Percy smiles softly, and goes to his knees, crawling in beside the boy. His nose is still bleeding a little, stopped briefly by the cloth and ice, he guesses. 

Percy scoops one of Credence’s feet up against his chest, and starts massaging it, gentle at first, then firmer, and then a touch roughly. Credence winces, and then tries to jerk it away. 

“What are you doing, trying to kill me?”

“It’s good for you, trust me. My bubba used to do this for us whenever we were feeling under the weather. It helps as much as rubbing your chest with menthol gel.” 

Percy puts both thumbs into the arch of Credence’s foot, and pushes outwards, until he feels most of the muscles going lax. He switches to the other foot, and ignores the boy’s hissing of breath, smiling at the eventual relaxation. All the tension leaves Credence’s body in those few moments. 

A hand reaches out, over, fingers brush under and into the collar of his shirt. Percy glances to Credence, catching him staring. Percy lifts Credence’s foot just high enough to press a kiss to the top, the high part of his arch. Then his fingers go lax on the boy’s foot, and Credence stops petting his chest. He appears to be looking at Percy’s mouth. He smiles, quirking his lips.

“Should I walk you to your room?” Percy asks. 

“M’not tired.” Credence says, but he doesn’t hide a yawn directly after. Percy laughs, but softly. 

He doesn’t want the boy thinking he’s making fun of him. Percy gets up, and helps Credence to his feet with a hand. He doesn’t quite scoop him into his arms, press him into his chest, but almost. 

Percy navigates the stairs and drops Credence off at his room with a kiss to the temple, and a squeeze to his shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll talk more later.”

“About what?”

“Things.”

As it happens, they don’t talk much at all. Percy waits on the balcony, after the hottest part of the day has passed, smoking again. His third cigarette in two days. God, he misses his alcohol stores at home. 

He accepts a glass of wine with lunch every day he’s at the villa, and then sleeps it off. 

Credence is currently doing the same, but of course, he’s more slight, and he’ll rest longer. 

His nosebleed went away overnight, and Percy still feels a hint of guilt. 

He hears the wooden slats squeak, and turns to see Credence himself, crowned with bedhead, shirtless, walking over to him, stifling a yawn. 

“Hey stranger.” Percy can’t hide the fondness in his voice, and there’s really no point now. 

He could fill notebooks with poems about the stars in Credence’s eyes, and make himself sick with all the nonsense that’s currently rattling through his head. “Hi. Is it later yet?” 

Percy’s heart does that thing again. Beating double time, like he’s been drinking, but he hasn’t really. God.

“Maybe.” His voice shakes as much as his hands. He flicks away the cigarette butt, which lands on the pebble front driveway, snuffed in an instant. “I’m nervous.” 

Percy swallows. “Why? We’re just talking.” 

Credence steps right up to the railing, and his hand skitters over atop Percy’s. Their fingers entwine. 

“So, are you gonna stop me if I try and kiss you again?”

Percy turns to see Credence looking right at him. 

“No.” He says it with a hint of finality, and Credence’s eyes drop to somewhere around his mouth, he thinks. Then it’s all over. They have hours before dinner. Plenty of sunshine to look at each other under. Credence turns so that his whole body is parallel to Percy, and then he’s jumping. 

Percy catches him, holds him flush to his chest, his body. Those long endless legs wrap around his waist, and Percy reaches back and down, grasping at one plush side of Credence’s ass.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” Credence asks, somehow his voice lower than Percy’s ever heard it. 

His lips find the side of Percy’s neck, and he almost trips over empty air. 

His bed’s closer. Bigger too, somehow. 

“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” He’s still fully dressed, after all. 

Percy finally manages to sit down on his bed, Credence settling into his lap. 

His brain’s firing ten miles a second.  _ ‘Now I can touch him as much and as long as I want,’ _ he thinks. Credence rocks down, and both his hands frame Percy’s head, fingers mussing his hair too, so it looks like he’s been napping. As if they slept together. 

Percy smiles against the next kiss, and splays his hands wide over the expanse of Credence’s bare back. He drags his fingers down, over all that warm skin, and dips them into the waistband of Credence’s shorts. Credence jumps in Percy’s hold, on his lap, and he groans when those same fingers dig into his ass, teasing at his cleft. 

“Are you aware of how good you look in green?” Credence says, half mumbling, right over Percy’s ear. 

“Better than without it?” He asks, already letting go to try and aid Credence in taking  _ his _ shirt off. 

Then at least, they’re on an even footing. Percy turns them carefully, putting Credence onto the bed on his back, so he can hover atop him, reaching down for his belt. 

Credence helps with that too, and then they’re  _ both _ in boxers on the sheets. “I want you in my mouth.” Percy says in a rush, his hands still terribly shaky, so he anchors them over Credence’s waist, on the verge of tugging his shorts off. The boy’s nostrils flare, and his head falls back, showing off a pale stretch of neck that Percy’s itching to mark up. Of course, he can’t.

“Okay, yeah, please do.” Percy gets Credence’s shorts off, and eyes his cock. 

The line of it is thick and flushed at the head, shiny with wetness as the tip peeks out from behind the foreskin. Percy rubs his thumb over the top, and catches that clear bead, just to bring it to his lips. 

Not quite like the sea, but not bad either. Credence whines, and huffs a breath, so Percy stops fucking around and leans down to mouth up the side of the shaft, before swallowing down around the head, swirling his tongue over and under. “Oh my-”

Credence is good enough to cut himself off, muffling his sounds with a fist to his mouth, and Percy wants to smile. But instead he starts sucking the boy off in earnest. It’s more than a mouthful, really, it’s a lot, but he’s got hands too. Percy guides Credence’s legs onto his shoulders as he kneels and ducks in closer on the bed. He braces both hands under the boy’s lower back, practically feeding Credence’s cock into his throat, until his nose is tickled by the cloud of dark hair framing the base. “I’m gonna come if you don’t-”

Percy wishes he could laugh. He doesn’t. 

Credence comes with a soft cry, and then arches his back closer, almost choking Percy on the flood of his semen. He pulls off Credence’s cock and kisses the side of his leg, his inner thigh. “How was that?” Credence hiccups on a laugh, possibly from nervous energy, and Percy grins. “Great.” 

He gently lets the boy’s legs down from his shoulders, and then shimmies out of his boxers, before settling between Credence’s spread thighs. He just lays there, draping himself over Credence’s body, kissing up from his ribs to his neck, then finally Percy is kissing the boy on the lips. 

He intends it to be chaste, but Credence’s tongue nearly forces itself into his mouth, so he can’t help but taste his own release. It makes Percy that much harder, and his hips stutter on a grind down, right against Credence’s silky soft skin, at the cleft of his thighs. “Please, please touch me.” Credence says. 

Percy obeys without hesitation, sliding a hand down the boy’s stomach to thumb over his hole, to rub and massage the fluttering rim, until Credence’s hands are grasping at his bare back, fingernails clawing at his shoulders, delirious and begging for something, some sort of lubrication to ease the way. 

Percy’s only got his tried and true vaseline, which is rather gross, and gets everywhere before it starts soaking into the skin. But it’ll do. 

Credence rolls over, and pushes his ass almost into Percy’s face so that he can thumb apart his cheeks, and apply slicked fingers to the tight ring of muscle, watching them swallowed up by twitching pink skin, and imagining his cock in their place. Percy can’t help grinding his hips against the bed, aching and dripping, hard and desperate for friction. Credence mewls and squirms under a third finger, and Percy’s hand spears him open just enough for the boy to curse. “Do it now, do it, do it, do it,  _ please.” _

Percy shifts back on his knees and pulls his fingers back, adding more vaseline to his palm, and then applying it to his cock. He barely gets halfway into Credence before he’s slumping forward, the sweaty skin of his chest sticking on the boy’s back, and he has to still his hips so that he doesn’t come immediately from the feel. Once he’s buried himself fully inside Credence, it’s on the side of painfully good. 

The hot, wet, tight clench of muscle around Percy’s cock is better than anything he’s felt in a while. 

Percy’s on the verge of tears, and Credence is just asking him to move. He reaches under the boy’s stomach and grabs for his cock, intent on making him come again before he spills inside Credence. Percy’s grip falters when he feels Credence push back into him, and his mouth opens against the back of the boy’s neck, panting hard into his skin, suddenly riding that razors edge. While Credence’s cock pulses into his palm, Percy musters the strength of mind to pull out, so that he can thrust himself in between Credence’s thighs, and his orgasm stutters out of him a moment later.

Percy’s come paints the sheets under Credence’s belly, and when the boy collapses, he does his best to move away so that he doesn’t crush him. Percy falls onto his side, one arm still thrown over the boy’s waist. Credence snuffles into Percy’s shoulder, and bites him, seemingly at random. 

“Fuck. I’ve never done that before. Why didn’t you stay in-”

Percy chuckles, breathless, giddy. “I don’t want you having a worse time at dinner. Trust me.”

Credence looks on the verge of a pout. “Next time. I want you to finish in me.”

He doesn’t want to say ‘There shouldn’t be a  _ next _ time,’ because he’s weak, already imagining it, and dangerously close to falling for this boy.


End file.
